


Brick By Brick

by erisantic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coffee Shops, Crossover Pairings, Dimension Travel, M/M, Post-Avengers (2012)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-08-10 07:19:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7835341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erisantic/pseuds/erisantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Chitauri Invasion, the Avengers are forced to deal with another magical trickster who calls himself Phantom. All the while, they battle with the new media spotlight. Steve Rogers is just glad to find an escape in a coffee shop, run by the intriguing Harry Potter. Yet, Harry keeps dark secrets close, and is missing something that could prove vital to the survival of all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hidden

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write Steve Rogers...Anyway, have a weird coffeeshop + betrayed!Harry au with some surprises thrown in.

Steve Rogers never thought he'd end up in a place like this. Five blocks from his usual gym, tucked into a corner, stood a building made of old brown brick. The windows were dark and grimy and splatters of graffiti framed the black door. If you squinted, you could find the name of the place among the spraypainted words.

"Marauders Hideaway."

And under that the short description, "coffee, tea, books, bad company." Honestly, Steve would have passed it the first time, if he hadn't been desperate for caffeine after an all night workout.

That first time he went inside, it took him a minute to get his composure. The interior was full of dark wood tables, mismatched velvet chairs, and bookshelves that lined two of the walls. The dim lighting wrapped everything in dense shadows. Soft music drifted through the air, originating from a sleek black piano in the corner. Steve eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw no one seated at the playing bench.

"Yo, dude, you gonna order or what?" Steve had been startled by the woman working at the small counter near the front. Her black hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she had more piercings and makeup than bare skin. He was still too caught up in the piano to think twice about her unconventional appearance.

"Your piano's playing itself." He said. It sounded just as dumb out loud. The girl gave him a look that suggested she thought the same.

"Yeah, _duh_. That's why it's called a 'player piano', already has the player." She said. "You gonna order?"

Steve relaxed at that. Player pianos had been around before his own time. It was strange to see one in action. The black and white ivories pushed down by some invisible force as the mechanics worked their magic.

He stepped up to the counter where the girl had been. She'd moved to work one of the machines behind it. Steve was greeted with a chuckle from large bald man with a bright red handlebar mustache.

"Sorry about Miranda, take your time."

The menu was short and Steve contained his sigh of relief. He really didn't want to navigate through the perils of modern beverages. He ordered a simple coffee with cream.

It hadn't been a worthwhile experience until he sat in one of the chairs. The patrons of the Marauder's Hideaway were _unique_. Not once was he approached for an autograph. No one even looked twice at Captain America sipping his coffee at the corner table.

He had gotten used to putting on a disguise to go out, but had forgot to grab one before his workout. The public had been swarming the Avengers since the Chitauri invasion. Media and fans were something only Tony could handle. Heck, Tony welcomed the autographs, interviews and photo-ops. Steve couldn't say he was the same. He was a soldier, not a celebrity. The 21st century clumped him in with the rest anyway. Anything and everything was under a spotlight.

Yet here, in this little coffee shop with chipped brick walls and bizarre baristas, he was close to anonymous. Everyone who came to the secluded spot seemed too caught up in themselves to care. Most of the customer sat alone or in close groups, reading, whispering, or even sleeping. There were a few folks with computers, consumed wholly in the digital world. No one here cared about much of anything.

Captain America would hate these people. People who had clearly turned their back on the world and humanity. Those who disregarded everything for the sake of themselves. However, normal Steve found it a relief. No talks of weapons or aliens or international relations. No press. No crowds. No cares. No worries. Just bad company.

It was perfect.

So, he became a regular at the Hideaway.

\---

He turned, slowing his jogging steps. His trainers crunched autumn's leaf deposits underfoot. The strong smell of coffee and herbs entered his nose when he opened the door. Steve couldn't hold back a smile at the place that was quick to become his escape. Despite the amount of space the new Avenger's Tower overwhelmed him with it's modern design. On top of that, one of the others always lurked nearby. Steve got along with all the Avengers, but he needed somewhere to get away from all the big personalities. The Marauders Hideaway was all his.

"Hey, guy." Miranda greeted him with her glare from behind black eyeshadow. She didn't use his name, despite writing on all the cups he ordered. "Do you want the usual, or are you gonna be interesting?"

"The usual, please." Steve said and she let out a huff. He didn't mind, he knew he was predictable. Taking comforts in routines got him through the harder days. He didn't think the girl was a problem either. Sure, she was impolite, but it wasn't just to him. Her everpresent rude demeanor had gotten familiar by now. He wouldn't spend any extra time in Miranda's company, but he could bare with her for the time it took to get his coffee.

The Captain picked up from the other barista, who he had learned was named Mike. The man was more friendly, but Steve hadn't found anything they had in common, so their conversations were short lived.

Sipping from the mouth-burning liquid, he surveyed the seating areas. All the tables were already claimed by at least one person. Steve guessed it was the hour, as he hadn't come at his usual time. "Too early for the birds _and_ the bees" as Stark would say. Though Iron Man's own sleep schedule consisted of nothing more than short naps between working. Sometimes days would go by before Banner noticed and put him on a rest lockdown.

Steve was content to sip at his coffee while leaning against the bricks. His eyes drifting over the patrons of the Hideaway, cataloguing them, but not focusing on anyone in particular. Steve liked to believe that everyone had some good in them, and deserved a chance to choose it before he labeled them as something bad. That being said, the people he observed here didn't have any visible admirable qualities. Nor did they have any overly immoral ones. Everyone here was comfy in neutrality, at least, in the confines of a place that accepted that.

As he scanned the room he found the spot he'd held in all his other visits. It was a tan armchair in the corner by the front windows. A perfect place to view the entire room as well as the outside entrance. His eyebrows raised when he saw the person seated there staring at him with some sort of interest.

It was a male, early twenties, would be short if he stood. Black hair that looked like it tried to escape from his head. Green eyes. Too green. Steve concluded the man wore contacts, because no eyes were that bright of a color naturally. And the Marauder's Hideaway attracted many different kinds of appearance choices.

Something else stood out about his eyes. They held the sunken look that Steve had only seen on soldiers in the war. But they contained no gleam, no fire. Though the rest of him expressed a relaxed and content state, the eyes were as good as dead.

The seated man lowered his hands from where he had been holding a teacup to his mouth. He kept his eye contact with Steve and pointed at the chair across from him at the small table. His lips mouthed the word "sit".

Steve didn't want to reject the offer, it wouldn't be polite. Besides, the young man seemed interesting. So, he settled into the peach armchair that had been pointed out to him, setting his coffee on the table. It unnerved the soldier to have his back to the room, but he was sure he could handle anything that happened. Not that he expected anything too.

"Thank you." He said with a nod to the man, who had started to sip his tea again.

"You're welcome Mr. America." The man said with a british accent and a teasing smile. Steve shrugged away the wince and tried to make small talk with his table partner.

"Just Steve is fine. What can I call you?"

"Why would I be able to control what you call me? You can do whatever you like." He said. Steve narrowed his gaze at that. What was this guy playing at?

"What would you like me to call you?" He asked, the polite words now held a colder tone. Steve gripped his coffee cup in one hand, with the other under the table. He didn't think this was a ploy to go after Captain America, but it didn't hurt to be guarded. He hated being mocked.

"Harry. That is my name."

Steve nodded and looked down at his coffee and then out the window. Anywhere but the dead expressionless eyes and face too blank for comfort. Harry took this as an invitation to continue talking.

"What's your opinion on cats?" He asked.

"What?" Steve asked with true confusion, looking back up at him. Because, really, what kind of question was that? This Harry got more bizarre every minute he sat with him.

"I read your biography." Here, Steve did wince. His dreams of escaping fans in the Hideaway were crushed. He didn't know what this Harry wanted, but that sentence alone had soured his mood.

"But they didn't cover any important things." Harry continued.

"And how I feel about cats is important?" He asked, half amused, but still holding onto his annoyance.

Harry lean forward over the table. Steve sucked in a breath as those eyes grew closer. Black strands of hair, jostled by the movement, fell to obscure the pure green irises. Steve felt as tense as he did before a mission.

"More than anything." Harry whispered. He plopped back down into the tan velvet like nothing unusual had occurred. A tiny smile on his lips still aimed at Steve.

Said super soldier let out a breath and a laugh fell out with it. He couldn't believe he'd been about to tag this guy as dangerous. He was just another weird addition to the shop. Another person who didn't feel comfortable going anywhere else. And he tried to make casual conversation. Steve couldn't pinpoint how he knew, maybe it was the words, maybe the tone, but he could tell Harry acted to make him comfortable. In his own way.

"I don't particularly like cats." He said. The smile on Harry's face bloomed into a stunning grin. Steve didn't know how or if he was the cause, but he smiled back all the same.

"I don't prefer them either." He said, grin never wavering.

"Well now that I've answered the most important question, I believe we have a predicament." Steve said.

"It's not the most important anymore." Harry replied with a wave of his hand.

"Oh? Then what is?" He asked.

"Castles, of course. Would you ever live in one?"

"Of course." He echoed with his amusement showing full force.

Harry proved to be enjoyable company, despite the shop's advertising otherwise. It was the most eccentric conversation Steve had engaged in all week, and that said something considering who he lived with. They chatted about topics ranging from cleaning to invisibility to owls. Harry never stayed on one topic too long, though he seemed to grow more excited as Steve continued to answer and ask questions. The topics seemed to mean something, to Harry at least, Steve just went along with the random choices.

It was nice to be able to keep up with the conversation. Despite Harry flitting between whatever he saw fit to mention, Steve never felt lost on what they were talking about. The Avengers, despite being his friends, got tired of having to explain different aspects of modern life to him. Except Thor, who split his time between Earth and Asgard, leaving for weeks and then showing up for lunch as if he never did. Steve understood him the least out of his team, but they had the struggle of adjusting in common.

He was better than when he first came out of the ice, but every time he grasped something, another four topics he didn't understand showed themselves. The reading and training S.H.I.E.L.D provided helped. There was just a mountain of things different from the past he'd left behind. Harry didn't mention anything about technology or current affairs, he just chattered on about mythical animals and impossible situations.

"Are you sure you'd _never_ make friends with a dragon?" Harry asked.

"I've never met a dragon and I don't plan on it." He answered.

"Hn. I don't think you will."

They both jumped when Steve's phone buzzed. He brought the piece of plastic out of his jacket and checked the screen. Few people had the untraceable number, and all of them demanded answers immediately. He sent an apologetic smile to Harry, who shrugged it off.

"Hey Stars n' Stripes, where'd you run off too?" Tony's voice wafted through the speaker like a bad smell. The other man always knew how to push Steve's buttons, even whe he wasn't trying too. When he was trying, well...

"I'm fine, just getting coffee." He said into the receiver before he got lost in thought.

"Really? Thought you'd be awake by now... Anyway, It's lunch time and Fury's showing himself around our humble abode."

That couldn't be right… Steve took the phone away from his ear to check the time. 12:00?! That meant he'd been sitting here and talking to Harry for nearly four hours. Where had the time gone?

"Yeah. I'll be there in a minute." He told Tony. Hanging up before the inevitable snarky reply came.

Harry sipped his tea, looking to be ignoring the one-sided conversation he could hear. He smiled when Steve hung up, not bothered by the abrupt end of their conversation.

"Sorry, I have to go. Thank you for the company, Harry." He said as he stood. The coffee had long gone cold and he tossed it in the can. Steve tensed when a hand grabbed his forearm. A look down told him that Harry had followed him. He felt himself being tugged down and moved to face the other man. Harry let the mischief return to his smile.

"We'll meet again, Steve." He said. Steve did nothing but nod. His voice had gone away with those eyes so close once more. He watched as Harry walked out the door and away. Shaking the rest of the unease at that stare away, Steve made his way back to the tower. Thoughts of green eyes and their owner faded with Fury's meeting.

He didn't know that accepting the seat that day would soon come to be his greatest mistake.


	2. Unsaid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you so much for the support on this story. I loved reading all the kind reviews and I'm so glad to bring you this chapter. I don't know when I'll update next due to school and stuff, but I'll try to do it soon since I enjoying writing this a lot. Also fixed some mistakes in the last chapter, must not have hit save on that last edit...whoops...On to the story!

Bright lights flashed one after another, making the small room appear chaotic. Steve gripped the sides of his wooden podium in a feeble attempt to feel grounded. He blinked between the cameras and the reporters poised to hit him with their lists of questions. Why had Fury put him on this mission? It was true he stood as the unofficial leader of the Avengers team, but he had no idea how to deal with the press conference; or the dozens of reported seated in rows in front of him.

A jab hit his side and he glanced left. Close by, with his trademark smirk, stood Tony Stark. Tony was more equipped to deal with this, he'd dealt with it his whole life. Why the billionaire couldn't do it alone escaped Steve's understanding. But orders were orders, and Fury insisted they both be there to represent the team.

"Smile." Tony hissed out of the side of his mouth.

Steve tried, but it came out strained and stiff, matching his posture. Tony waved a hand, gesturing for the questions to start. He pointed at a young blonde woman in a floral vest.

"Caitlin Ross for Oriole News. Mr. Stark, how will joining the Avengers team affect Iron Man? Will you still operate as a separate entity in our times of need or are you now bound to the government?"

Steve didn't know where to begin with that question. It painted SHIELD as some sort of enemy; even after they defeated Loki. He hoped Tony wouldn't throw them under the bus, but the billionaire just stood taller. As if he needed a bigger head.

"What can I say? I've always been one for the people." Tony replied with a grandiose grin. Some of the crowd, including Ms. Ross, swooned at the gesture. Steve noticed his teammate didn't answer the question at all, he just said what would please them. Fury told them to play the press that way, but Steve had his inhibitions about doing so; he prided himself on being an honest man.

After the crowd settled, he followed Tony's lead and pointed at one of the raised hands. Steve noticed him cringe at the selection, but the other Avenger held his smile. The man he pointed out stood and straightened his crisp business suit.

"Captain America, what are the current plans involving the Hulk?" The new reporter asked.

"Pardon?" Steve spoke into the microphone. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but he didn't like where this was going.

"Chris Porter for the New York Elite." The man said. "After the destruction brought on by Bruce Banner during the recent invasion of Manhattan, and in the past, will the Hulk be fighting with you in future?"

Steve's knuckles went white from gripping the podium so hard. Bruce was a good man, an incredible scientist, and a valuable member of the team. To hear him insulted in such a way made Steve's blood boil. Tony opened his mouth to respond and Steve held up a hand for him to stop. He spoke with a calm and neutral tone, hiding his anger.

"Dr. Banner is not responsible for the damage from the Chitauri or-"

"You admit he has no control over his violent alter ego?" Porter cut in with a smug look.

"That's not what I said." Steve snapped, his icy anger leaking out into his tone. He did not want to be in this room with vultures who had the nerve to slander his team–his friends. He took a deep breath and continued. All he had to do was be honest and frank with them and this misunderstanding would be gone. "Look, the Hulk is just as dangerous as the rest of us. We have what it takes to defend our country and it's citizens."

The room dissolved into a flurry of hushed whispers. Steve got the impression he'd said something wrong. Mostly, from the way Tony hunched over with a frown. One of the SHIELD agents overseeing the conference called for quiet and asked if there were any other question. It rang clear in her threatening tone of voice that she hoped no one would speak.

"If the Avengers are as dangerous as you say, how will they protect us?" A woman yelled from the back of the crowd without being prompted. Like a dam breaking, the rest of the reporters rushed to yell their questions. Steve squinted through the bright lights as the anarchy ensued.

"Are the Avengers a danger to citizens?"

"Who is stopping one of you from becoming the next Loki?"

"No. Please, calm yourselves." Steve said, his commanding voice willed them to hear him. Still, the onslaught continued. He couldn't stand the constant questions. They knew nothing about this! The Avengers protected them! Why wouldn't they listen?

"What about those who died in the attack on Manhattan?" The question created a shockwave across the room as the voices softened to hear his answer. Steve didn't know where the voice came from, so he addressed the room.

"I am deeply sorry for the losses suffered in the attack. As with any war, there are always casualties-"

Everything erupted again, but this was the final straw. He watched the SHIELD agents herd people out the door and felt a hand clamp on his arm. Tony dragged him out the back entrance, pulling him forward even as microphones were shoved in his face.

The hallway behind the makeshift conference room hit him with a wall of cool air and silence. Tony dragged him halfway down it before turning. His face had twisted in rage.

"Nice going _, Cap."_ Steve shifted into a more defencive posture at his biting sarcasm, crossing his arms and matching Tony's hard stare. "The whole 'cold-shoulder soldier' thing really won them over."

Steve had to quicken his pace to keep up with him as he walked away. SHIELD used the building they were in to deal with the public when needed. Seeing as they didn't do so often, it was filled with empty rooms and long deserted hallways. Tony weaved through it with ease.

"I didn't-" He stopped his reply when he noticed Tony ignoring him in favor of tapping away at his phone. "What are you doing?"

"Damage control. Some of them can be bribed out of the story, but I bet it's popped up somewhere already. Fury will not be happy." He put down the phone and glared at Steve. "Why couldn't you just stand there and smile like a good poster boy?"

"We were supposed to answer questions."

Tony stalked forward and jabbed a finger at his chest.

"In case you haven't noticed Ice Cube, this isn't world war two. People don't take kindly to the "we're dangerous and casualties are expected" crap." He growled. "The world wants to be safe in its bed, in blissful oblivion to battles unless it's on a screen after it's been won. They don't want to be told they could die, or that their _heroes_ are anything but perfect, clean, and righteous defenders who will smile for pictures and sign autographs. We aren't _soldiers_. There is no _war,_ except the one you just created for us!"

With the end of his rant, Tony stormed away. Steve stayed in the middle of the barren hall. The words tumbled around in his head like a washing machine. He had to admit Tony had made his point clear, and he wasn't wrong. Steve also wondered how he would get back to the tower; Tony was his ride.

As he walked, he reviewed what had transpired in the press conference. One of the most likely conclusions, from the way the reporters acted, was that the news had asked those questions to get a specific kind of answer. They could have wanted him to go the direction he did, to publish the idea that the Avengers were the enemy. But he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out why they would do such a thing.

The rest of his thoughts as he traveled through the building were all silent curses. Why wasn't he prepped more for this? Why couldn't the questions have been easier?

Like...his preference on cats.

If only Harry had been the one asking, then he would feel more relaxed in answering. He felt the loss of the odd presence all the way back to Stark's flashy fortress. SHIELD had, unsurprisingly, sent a car for him.

Three days went by and the tension had yet to die. Tony refused to speak with him after their argument and the rest of the Avengers were just awkward to be with. Avoiding his eyes and tip-toeing around the hot topic.

He'd failed them all.

Fury chewed him out for it, of course, but there wasn't much he could do. The damage had been done. Multiple calls to the press and PR moves didn't achieve anything; the headlines kept coming.

"Captain America Reveals the True Nature of the Avengers"

"Super or Deadly: The Powers of America's Newest Heroes."

"What Does SHIELD Hide Behind Closed Doors?"

"Avenger's Secret War: How Thousands of Dollars in Damage and Hundreds of Deaths Were Created by a Group of Vigilantes"

"Gods of War: Who are the Asgardians really?"

Things peaked when Thor showed up for dinner in his usual unannounced flair of thunder. He strolled in from the launch pad, red cape billowing. Tony looked up from his place at the table and sported a half-hearted grin.

"If I had known you were going to show up, I would have ordered another steak...or the whole cow." He said.

Snickers came from behind Clint's wine glass; while Natasha smirked behind hers. Thor shrugged it off and went to the fridge. He piled the collective leftovers from the whole week onto his thick arms and sank down into a chair between Steve and Clint.

Once the interruption concluded, silence fell over the table like a husky smoke. The lack of words stoked the fire between him and Tony. Steve cursed his lapse in foresight when he agreed to having a meal all together. None of them spoke over the clinking of silverware against plates and ruffling of cloth napkins. In the end, it was Thor who broke the unspoken no-talking rule, having not been there in it's inception.

"What is this 'civil discourse' that Fury mentioned?" He asked. Steve coughed around his food. Clint, Bruce, and Natasha were ready to escape. Tony acted as though Christmas had come early and wasted no time in taking the opportunity to express his ire.

"Oh, I'm sure the Captain can fill you in on that." Tony said as he turned to face the soldier. "Steve, if you will?"

Steve didn't have time to rise a the obvious taunting, because once Thor's oblivious blue eyes looked at him, his guilt slammed full-force into the front of his mind. How would he explain this? Steve cleared his throat.

"The news hasn't been in our favor as of late. I..."He paused, gathering the thoughts together. "I may have scared the public while speaking about our...capabilities."

He caught Tony mouthing "May have?" to Bruce, who just grimaced. Thor took Steve's words in stride though, and slapped a hand on his shoulder.

"That is alright my good man! I, too, have often lost in the battle of words. Shall we just throw a grand feast and have this all be done with?" Thor said.

"We can't throw a feast for seven billion people." Natasha said as she rolled her eyes.

"No…" Tony said. The others could recognize that glint in his eye as an idea. With it being Tony Stark, it was bound to be insane. Those were the only kind of ideas that worked for him.

"What are you thinking?" Bruce asked with trepidation.

Tony stood up and paced while typing on his phone. Presumably forwarding his plans to Pepper. Or, telling her not to worry because he was about to do something stupid. Steve let out a breath when he finally looked up from his device.

"Are you going to explain?" Bruce prompted and set Tony of in a whirlwind of words as he continued to pace.

"Have our PR moves worked? No, of course not. Bland, inefficient, coming from behind a wall of text. We've been missing a key ingredient. What you ask?" He paused his steps, turned to the team and spread his arms wide like he'd just invited them in to share some big secret. "Us."

He held the pose for a few seconds while receiving blank stares.

"I've gotta be honest, you've lost me." Clint spoke for the confused audience.

"We can't just say we're safe, we have to show them." Bruce summarized, being well versed in Stark-slang did have it's uses.

"Exactly!" Tony said, gaining energy for the first time since the whole media mess started. "And what better way to flaunt, mingle, and otherwise display my shining personality than a party? I've been meaning to have one since the tower reopened, you know."

Everyone got lost in there thoughts at the proposition. Steve let the dust settle before he stirred it up again. There were still things he couldn't let slide, and the safety of his team was top priority.

"Won't throwing a party here compromise security?" He asked.

"Please, Roger Rabbit, my security is the best in the world. We'll only open the lower levels anyway." With those words Tony walked off muttering about party plans.

The rest of the Avengers cleaned up their dinner and headed off to their personal areas for the night. Steve stayed back to wash dishes. Keeping his mind on simple tasks helped turn off the worries. So many things could go wrong with Tony's plan. Shooting it down wasn't an option. Not only had Tony perked up enough to go back to the usual nicknames instead of the silent treatment, but it was still the only idea they had to better the Avenger's reputation. He looked up from his soapy hands when a presence came to stand next to him.

"I'm worried too." Bruce Banner spoke as Steve toweled off his hands. The other man leaned against the counter and fiddled with his purple tie.

"I think we can trust Tony knows what he's doing." Steve said, though he didn't fully believe it himself.

"I know, but what if they're right? We are dangerous. What if something does happen and I..." He trailed off and looked away with a pained face. Steve knew the look well, he saw it in the mirror when remembering the war and what he had to do during it.

"Lose control?" He asked. There was no answer to the question, but none were needed. "You won't. Don't drown yourself in 'what ifs' or you'll exhaust yourself before the real battle even starts."

Steve went to bed trying to take his own words to heart.

* * *

The next day, while Tony and Pepper argued over the upcoming event, Steve took his chance to leave the tower. He made sure the baseball cap tilted down over his face and donned a pair of black sunglass before heading out. The disguise went unnoticed until he reached his destination.

"What's with the glasses, guy? Too cool to be seen here?" Miranda sneered when he got up to the counter. She ignored the laughs from her coworker and slammed his order down in record time. "Take them off, you look like a douche."

Well, that was one reason not to fire her, Steve thought as he tucked the offending sunglasses into his pocket, the girl was fast. He almost dropped the coffee, however, when he turned to meet a familiar stare. Harry sat in the seat he used last time they met, delicately sipping tea like he'd never left. As Steve drew closer, he noticed something different about his acquaintance. In Harry's lap, lay a small lump of grey fur.

"I procured a cat." He said as Steve slid into the seat across from him.

"I noticed." Steve replied, dragging his eyes away from the kitten and back to his company. "I thought you didn't like cats?"

"Oh, I don't prefer them. They're meddling, disloyal, deceitful little buggers with little care for anyone but themselves."

Steve got the feeling there was a story there. Then, as if summoned by the words, the cat's head popped up from it's curled up position. It yawned and blinked. It's blue eyes closed when Harry placed a hand between its ears.

"Circe and I have an agreement, though. I provide food and occasional entertainment and she provides company." He finished.

Steve got over his initial amusement and glanced around the shop. None of the other customers had pets of any sort at their side. A cat wasn't a normal thing to bring on your morning walk; he didn't even think you could walk a cat. How had Harry snuck that thing in?

"I don't think you can just take your cat into a coffee shop." Steve said.

Harry frowned and glance between him and the cat. Circe stretched, hopped off his lap and stalked over to a pet bed in the corner near the piano. That hadn't been there the last time, Steve was sure.

"Why not? It's my cat and it's my shop." Harry said.

Well, that explained things. Steve examined the man again after the revelation. He still didn't look the part of a business owner. To be fair though, the Marauder's Hideaway didn't look the part of a business.

"Fair point." He said and let the topic rest.

Harry didn't strike up a conversation like last time. The two of them sat in silence and drank their respective beverages. It wasn't the tense silence of last night, but warm silence that wrapped around them like a blanket. Nothing was unsaid between them and no words were needed to enjoy the quiet companionship. It dragged on until Steve decided he should be heading back. Before he could leave, Harry once again gave him a parting message.

"Don't feel bad about it. People always look for someone to blame." He said in the same cryptic way as before.

Steve wanted to ask about what he meant. He wanted to stay and talk to Harry and figure out why the man was such a mystery. But the coffee was cold and he didn't want to find something better left in the dark. For he could see the look Bruce had last night, the look of war, in those dead eyes; the only emotion they'd shown so far. Steve walked out of the coffee shop and convinced himself he wasn't afraid of what that meant.


	3. Answered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAHA I finally finished! As to why this took forever, life hit me in the crazies and I've been going through a bad dip in my depression.
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ what can you do? I'll try to get the next chapter out as soon as I can. Thank you so much for the overwhelming support! All your word make me so happy and help motivate me to write!

Somehow, though it came as no surprise, Operation: Party Planning had quickly become more than anyone wanted to deal with. The lab at the tower had devolved into a mess of colored lights and the remains of an unfortunate glitter accident. Poor Bruce was packed into a corner with a single desk, four computer monitors, and a perpetually confused face. All this because Tony convinced himself they had to make everything "Big with a capital B."

Clint and Natasha had a betting pool running on how many things would go wrong. Neither of them seemed to care much about revamping their public image. They had so many aliases and cover stories to fall back on if need be. Thor stuck around for the most part, suggesting questionable Asgardian delicacies for the menu and then flying off who knows were to do who knows what.

Steve stayed out of the way. He got exhausted just watching Pepper run around and try to manage her fiance like a toddler.

"No Tony, we can't have a smoke machine! Because it's a liability!"

"Don't! Don't touch that! No!"

"What are you doing with a monkey?!"

It was a wonder that it didn't put a strain on their relationship; Steve didn't even know how there was one there in the first place, but he'd leave it with the rest, as a mystery. The whole party was hush-hush; nothing about it went past a few select people. By the time the invitations went out to the media, celebrities, politicians, and New York's elite socialites, Steve only knew what was on the shiny gold card.

You are cordially invited to an exclusive event.

October 31. 8:00 p.m.

Located at the Avenger's Tower.

Attire is black tie masquerade.

Send R.S.V.P. to Ms. Pepper Potts

When he asked about the lack of content, Tony told Steve it was "purposely vague and mysterious" and that he should "leave this to the experts." The tension between them rose again as Steve battled with his state of uselessness and Tony continued playing his game with the press. He appeared on several talk shows to allude to the party, sometimes taking Clint, of all people, with him. The marksman's casual air seemed to balance out Tony's energy well and they may have earned a few fans with the appearances. That didn't keep Steve from feeling slightly insulted when told he was the last one considered for the job of impressing the nation through cable television. He knew damn well he messed up last time, but was he really the least personable among them? It seemed a ridiculous notion, but the more Steve dwelled on it, the more it became true.

All he could do in these days was stand back and watch with the rest of the civil population. And they watched him. It felt like he was back there in Brooklyn, taking on any man who'd throw him a cheap shot, but never measuring up. Yet, this time the world was watching and he was so far behind them. It made him itch for a fight, a clear goal, an enemy. Anything other than billions of faceless people – who he would never know – deciding his fate in a rigged game of Russian roulette. It felt like everything he said loaded another bullet.

That's how Natasha found him – slowly working his way towards an existential crisis. She swept her red hair over one shoulder and sat with him on the long sofa. The ample distance between them did nothing about Steve's impression that he was being examined under a microscope.

"Don't look now, but your face is betraying you, Captain." She said.

"What is it saying then?" His croaking voice turned traitor too.

"That you need to get out of here."

With that advice, Natasha stood and gave him a pat on the shoulder before exiting. Sometimes it payed off to have secret agents as friends; they were always figuring out the problem and saying what needed to be said in the least words possible. He made a note in his mind to thank Natasha later. For now though, there was somewhere he needed to be.

* * *

 

The high afternoon sun gave no alleviation from the chill in the air. Steve didn't bother running back to the Tower to grab a jacket, preferring to let the cold wind help blow away his thoughts. He'd remembered the disguise though, and the baseball cap hung low over his sunglasses. It felt strange to be taking the familiar path this late in the day. Anticipation rose from his sneakers smacking into the pavement.

Steve's mind ran ahead of him to the corner of his favorite coffee shop. He could recreate the image of the Hideaway perfectly by now. These past weeks he'd only seen it in flashes; quick in and outs for a cup in the morning. There hadn't been much of a reason to linger in the caffeine stained atmosphere lately. The reason, he tried to believe, went to his antsy energy about the party.

Unfortunately, his face still had a habit of giving him away. Every time he opened the door to the Marauder's Hideaway, his eyes were drawn over to the corner by the window where he'd sat with a certain someone all those weeks ago. It got to the point where the baristas would mention their boss wasn't in house before handing over his order. Steve would say thanks for his coffee and duck out the door before they saw the red on his horrible, awful, stupid face.

He couldn't blame himself for missing Harry. Logically, the absent business owner was the only person he knew outside the realm of SHIELD and the Avengers. It wasn't out of line to seek out that bit of normality; even if Harry definitely strayed from 'normal'. Still, it felt awkward to have people notice. Somehow he wanted to keep those two fleeting meetings a secret. Not because he wanted them hidden; he just wanted to selfishly keep something himself.

_Maybe too much cold air is bad for my head._

The thought flew into his head as he rounded the corner and drew to a halt. Standing past the widows, leaning against the graffiti riddled entrance was a head of black hair. Even before Steve was running the remaining three blocks he knew who it was.

"Hey." Steve breathed out.

The way Harry tilted his head to look up at him made Steve want to brush away the hair that had fallen in his eyes. He looked the same as memory served, save for the darker bags under his eyes. Steve felt a tinge of worry at that, but knew he wasn't fairing much better with sleep.

"Hello, Mr. America." The answer drew a hearty chuckle from Steve, his anxious energy dispersed.

"It's good to see you."

"Hm." Harry hummed as he took a sip of the to-go cup in his hand. "Would you like to join me for a walk?"

Side by side, they strolled along the side streets of Brooklyn. Nestled on the wide sidewalk, between the cramped brick buildings and the rows of cars lining the street. The breeze brushed their cheeks and mingled with their breath. No words were exchanged, though the invitation was left open. After a while, Steve took the chance.

"It's different."

"What is?" Harry asked and glanced up from studying the dirty sidewalk. He had quite long eyelashes, Steve noticed.

"Here. Everywhere. I grew up in Brooklyn, could name my way through most of the streets around here, but only the bricks are familiar. Everything else has changed." He pointed to the modern cars.

"And that's...bad?" Harry asked, still eyeing the cars as if he'd just noticed they existed.

"No." Steve said, running a hand through his hair and trying to wrangle his thoughts. "Different. Hard to adjust."

He berated himself for the way his speech clipped and cut short. It was hard to articulate the reality of waking up in the future. The closest someone came to understanding was Thor, and even he was seeing the world for the first time and not strangely updated with none of the people you knew alive.

"Did you like it here?" The question startled Steve out of his downward spiral. He couldn't help the small smile when remembering himself as the small punk who used to run around these streets.

"Yes, it's a fine place. Although, I got beat up in most of the alleyways."

Harry's head snapped up so fast it might have caused whiplash. Steve held his narrowed eyes for a moment before speaking.

"You read my biography."

"Yes, well, it didn't say much about getting your arse kicked."

Steve tried for a disapproving frown, but his mouth intended on twisting the other way. It was the last thing either said for a while. The leaves of autumn were still crowding in the gutters and crunching underfoot. Everything held a sharp and fresh smell. The season would always change, Steve thought, in the same order, the same way.

The two of them had held comfortable silence before. This time though, he could see Harry itching to ask something; Opening his small mouth to say something, only to close it and fiddle with the hem of his jacket instead.

"I won't be offended by questions." Steve said. It was, apparently, all Harry needed to rush his question out.

"Why did you become Captain America?"

It took Steve by surprise again; he had been expecting the topic, but in more of the how's than the why's. He looked ahead into the glare of the sun and the cloudy sky. His lips moved of their own accord.

"I wasn't the healthiest kid, growing up. I was scrawny and small-"

"That's why you got beat up." Harry smacked a hand over his mouth as if he hadn't expected to voice that particular sentiment. Steve spared him a soft smile before continuing.

"I was always picking fights with the local bullies and running off to enlist. I knew that just because I wasn't strong, didn't mean I should back down from what was right. When they offered the chance to help with the war - to stand up and fight - I took it. Didn't count on becoming a hero, but I wouldn't go back."

There was another bought of silence before Harry spoke again, quieter than before.

"I wish I could be so optimistic, but I don't believe in heroes."

He turned from a little ways up the path to face where Steve had paused his walking. Shrugging the sentiment off and giving a small bitter smile as if it didn't matter at all. Steve knew it did. He listened closely to the next words.

"I think people do things for themselves." Harry said. "People are selfish. That's why anyone does anything. For themselves."

"You're wrong." Steve said.

Harry just shrugged again and started walking. Steve wondered, not for the first time, what had happened to this man? How could someone become so bitter about the world? And… was there any way to change that?

"That was much better than the biography, by the way." Harry called over one shoulder almost as an afterthought.

"Really?" Steve jogged to catch up with him.

"Not the movie though. I've heard _that_ Captain America wore spandex." The smile Harry gave was positively _devious_.

* * *

When he arrived back at the Tower, darkness tinted the sky. Clink was sitting at the table eating something that smelled like heaven. He looked up and grinned through mouthfuls of the stuff.

"How was your date-OW!"

Clint rubbed the back of his head where Natasha had come up from behind and smacked him. Steve looked pointedly between them and came back with some teasing of his own.

"Ask yourself."

"I'm not the one grinning like he just got la-OW TASH!"

"Um-" Bruce paused at the scene before him; Steve, arms crossed, looking triumphant standing over a clearly wounded Clint while Natasha lingered in the background, poised to strike again. After figuring out what was going on, he continued. "Tony's on TV."

The rest of them followed the scientist over to where the ridiculously big and expensive flat screen. It displayed one of the various late night shows; the host leaned back and laughing at something Tony had said. The rest of the Avengers (minus Tony) settled around Thor - who was predictably stuffing his face - on the larger than normal leather sofa.

"So, we can expect this party to be big then?" The host asked, leaning over his desk to ask.

"Of course! Everything's big when I'm involved." Tony raised an eyebrow at the camera, prompting another round of laughter from the studio audience.

"Mr. Stark-"

"Tony, please."

"Tony. Many in the media have been saying this is an effort by SHIELD to push some sort of agenda-"

"I'll stop you right there." Tony said, holding up a hand and giving a serious face. "It's all my idea, SHIELD had nothing to do with it."

"That's surprising." The host responded, slightly flustered.

"As if I'd let the suits take any of the credit." Tony flashed another grin and the tense atmosphere was gone. "Really though, it's just a party among friends to celebrate renovations in my home."

"These friends...they would be…?"

"The Avengers, yes." Tony indulged with another wave of the hand. "We're just regular people outside of the fighting. Outrageously good looking people-"

Steve rolled his eyes.

"But people all the same."

The host smiled and shook Tony's hand with his congratulations and goodbyes. The billionaire walked off the stage with a wave and blown kiss to the audience and camera.

"Wow, he sure is laying it on thick." Clint said when it cut to commercial.

"Do you think it will be enough?" Bruce bounced back, glancing around at his teammates.

"It has to be." Steve said, earning nod of agreement all around.


	4. Masked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, my friends! The party! Ahhh, I hope you like it! And before you ask, yes, Bucky is really dead in this fic.

On the dawn of the big day, Steve took his sweet time at the coffee machine in the kitchen. Workers had been at the Tower since seven in the morning assembling everything for the party that night. Clattering and clamoring on the lowest levels. In some ways, he couldn't believe it was here; in others, he just wanted to get it over with.

A sound - the shattering of glass - came echoing up from floors below. Steve made a move to see what it was, but stopped when a hand gripped his arm. He look down to find Clint shaking his head. The archer looked like he hadn't gotten any sleep either, with his dark circles and tousled hair. It reminded him of someone else. He had to blink away the thoughts when Clint spoke.

"Don't wanna go down there. It's a mess."

Steve looked from Clint to the elevator and shook his head. He wasn't allowed to deal with the party anyway. Tony's rules. Though, Tony's rules were bringing about a Tony-sized mess and he could only hope it was cleaned up in time.

"Is it going to be ready?" Steve asked, caught between hope and dread.

It had to work out. This was their only chance. Clint shrugged as if to say 'Who knows?' and settled down at the table with his newspaper and coffee. Clint was the only one who still voluntarily kept up with the headlines. Even Tony just had his people give him status updates.

Current Status: _Not Good._

Steve read the front page of the newspaper with growing worry. It wasn't what he expected after all the media pandering they'd been up to, but it somehow wasn't as big a shock as it should have been.

"Steve Rogers' Secrets of Death and Betrayal?" He read aloud.

Clint flipped the paper closed to view the page Steve was reading from. He grimaced and shoved the it across the table. Steve brought the news up to his face and skimmed the words.

It wasn't that damaging. Half-cocked theories with no real basis in fact, anyone with a brain could see that. The thing that got him, what really pissed him off, wasn't even really about him. It was a little side snippet under an old photo, clearly not written by the same person as the original baiting article.

"Bucky Barnes, often cited as a great war hero, and Captain America's closest friend, was no more than one of hundreds of young men who died in WWII. Of course we can't remember all of the thousands who die. You have to wonder, why this one? Did he do anything notable? No. He was friends with history's greatest science experiment, Steve Rogers. That's the only reason we remember his name."

Steve couldn't feel his hands when he finished reading. He couldn't feel anything, except the sharp twist of rage in his gut. The sides of the paper were in shreds from his hands gripping it, little snowflakes drifting to the floor. When had the room gotten so cold? He was aware someone was talking to him in a hushed tone, trying to calm the storm rushing through his veins.

Bucky had been his best friend, the one who stood by him through his nightmare of a childhood. All Steve wanted for his friend was a peaceful life, and now a peaceful death. Some sleazy no-good rotten reporter just had to dig him up and spit on his memory like trash. How dare they.

Why did everyone forget that dead people were once people too? Why did they forget they had lives? Made mistakes? People cared about them. Steve cared. He cared very much about his fallen friend.

 _How dare_ _ **anyone**_.

He flipped to the paper front to back. A name, he needed a name. There it was, staring up at him from the black and white, Chris Porter. The man from the press conference. The one Tony didn't like. Well, Steve got why. He was gonna - was gonna - what? Hurt him? Tell him off? He couldn't do anything to the man without causing more uproar in the papers. That's what this guy wanted at the conference, it must be what he wanted now. No. Steve wouldn't give in. He had to be sneaky. Guerrilla tactics.

He was going to have to impress the press.

"You alright, Steve, bud?" Clint asked, two steps away to avoid his right hook if need be.

Steve gave his most dazzling smile, the kind they used to print on enlisting posters. Clint took a couple steps back.

"I'm perfect, Clint. Just excited for tonight."

"You're creeping me out with that smile." Clint said warily as he grabbed his coffee and left the room.

Okay, maybe he needed to tone it down a little. He hadn't had to play to the public in a long time, and last time had been a serious low. He did, however, know someone who could help.

* * *

"I need your help." Steve said, gulping down his third cup off coffee for that morning.

"Really? Something to do with your little house party tonight?" Harry asked, sitting in his usual chair with a suspiciously amused smile.

"Yes." Steve said, his body buzzed with caffeine and anxious energy. "I need you to help me be more charming."

Harry laughed, his mouth wide open and thrown back, exposing the strong line of his jaw and his pale neck. Steve stared. The laughing didn't stop.

"It's not funny." He said, slamming his empty cup onto the table for emphasis.

Harry sobered quicker than a camera flash, his expression changing to worried and his voice hesitant.

"It's not you. Just...I'm not exactly the person to ask?"

"Why not?"

Steve couldn't think of a better person _to_ ask. The other Avengers were busy in there own way, and Steve wasn't sure he cared for Natasha's bluntness, or Bruce's nervous avoidance. Harry was a good combination of both. Plus, Harry was the person he thought of first.

"I advertised my shop as 'bad company', I think that's enough indication." Harry said, looking out the window at the late October fog. Steve wanted to wipe the forlorn expression right off his face.

"I think you're company is perfectly fine." He said, grabbing Harry's hand so he would look his direction again. Harry's eyes still held the eerie quality within their depths, even if the eyelids were widened in surprise.

"I need your help with this, Harry. Please?"

Steve wouldn't say he was begging, more like a heavy _asking._ It still brought a bit of pink to his cheeks. Harry looked down at Steve's hand on his - he had yet to pull away - and nodded shyly. Steve slid his hand back to his side of the table, missing the warmth of Harry's just a little.

"Okay. What do you need exactly?"

"What would people like?" Steve asked, thinking back to the room full of reporters and their noise like insects.

He _really_ didn't want to be there again. But a party was different. More casual, and at the same time, more formal. There would be music, probably dancing, and light conversation rather than constant questions. He'd have to impress them with more than his words, that was for sure.

"Are you asking what I like? Or what the general population likes?" Harry asked, tipping his head to the side. Steve couldn't help but feel as if that was a loaded question. He answered with what he needed.

"Both."

"Well, smiling is always nice." He answered. "But it has to be real. You have to think of something that genuinely makes you happy before you smile. Or else it comes out plastic."

That explained this morning. He was anything but pleased when smiling at Clint over the paper. The man was smart to make his retreat. Another thought popped into Steve's head, and he voiced it before he could stop himself.

"Was that you or the general population talking?"

Harry laughed again and Steve joined. It was a wonderful piece of music, their laughs joined together with the piano playing lightly in the background. The table shook between them as they bumped it in mindless glee. Steve wanted to make Harry laugh like that again and again.

"Both." He answered, and that started another chorus of shared mirth.

Harry gave his some more pointers by the end of their time:

"Eye contact, but not too much. It creeps people out."

"Compliments make people happy. But be honest on what you like, not just throwing them out to please."

"Talk about their interests and your own."

He didn't distinguish which were his own opinions, but Steve thought he knew his friend well enough to know they all were. He wondered just when he'd gotten so close to Harry. They'd only met a handful of times, yet Steve already considered him a good friend. The kind he was comfortable sharing his opinions around, and not hold back. The kind he wanted to be around, no matter his mood. It was almost like having Bucky again, but not.

Bucky had always been like an older brother looking out for him. Even after he became a super soldier and was physically bigger than his friend. He might not of thought of it, had the article this morning not put it in his mind, Bucky was really different from Harry. Not just in their personalities, in their friendship as well.

Bucky had been his brother in all but blood.

Harry was...warm.

That's the only way Steve knew how to describe it. Other than that, he had no idea what Harry was exactly, and he was content to leave it that way.

* * *

Steve didn't even bat an eye when he was handed a suit to change into. It was approximately two hours before the big event, and everyone was hyped up. Thor had already broken into the champagne, and was getting thoroughly scolded by Pepper. Tony was on his phone, as usual, and the rest of the personnel already there were caught between sitting awkwardly or standing around awkwardly.

Steve changed into the blue suit, won the battle with his hair, and splashed his face with water to get rid of the rest of the nerves. It didn't work. He opened the bathroom door to find Natasha, clad in a skin-tight black strapless dress. She held something out to him, and this time Steve did blink.

"It's your mask." Natasha said. "Tony wanted all our outfits to match our _other_ outfits."

The mask covered the top half of his face snugly, and was the blue like the suit he was wearing, with small white and red stars crowded near the eyes. The same colors, he belatedly realized, that Captain America wore. He watched Natasha put on her own mask, all black with a small red hourglass on one side. She took his arm and they traveled down to the designated party floors (1, 2, and 3).

Bruce was there, looking quite put out in his dark green suit and purple mask.

"Have you seen Tony?"He asked.

"No, why?" Steve said. Really, what did Tony do now? That man couldn't be held down for more than four seconds. He was more energized about the party than the rest of them combined.

"He was supposed to prep us for the opening speech."

"I'm sure we just have to smile and wait while he does the talking." Natasha said, always with the words of wisdom.

"Tasha's right," Clink came up to their little gathering, clad in a black suit and mask with a tiny silver arrow pins on each. "Stark wouldn't let us get a word in anyways."

"I hope you're right." Bruce said. "We should find the stage."

While the third and second floor were set up as small lounges, the first floor had been completely transformed. A grand ballroom, with twinkling silver chandeliers and glossy black marble floors. Mirrors were tacked on the white wall, surrounded by ornate gold frames, making the room look bigger than it was. In between them, black curtains hung down from the ceiling, making it moody and dark. Part of the room was taken up by a small stage. On which, Steve could already see a string quartet tuning their instruments. All four wearing black suits and masks.

Tony too, was standing on it, grinning like he'd just won the lottery. Not that he needed to.

"There you all are! So, how do I look?" Tone said, twirling around in his red suit, metallic gold mask flashing in the lights.

"Narcissistic as ever." Steve commented in a low voice, but evidently Tony heard. As he shouted a "Hey!" and threatened to throw him out on the street, Clint voiced a more pressing concern.

"Where's Thor?"

"FEAR NOT, MY FRIENDS," Thor's booming voice filled the ballroom. He came up to the stage and embraced Tony in one of his crushing hugs. "THANK YOU FOR THROWING THIS GRAND FEAST!"

Who gave him a microphone?" Clint asked, rubbing his ears and stepping away from the loud Asgardian.

"No one!" Tony said, escaping from the hold. Thor continued to lean on him in his grey suit and red mask. "Who gave him alcohol?!"

They looked between each other with no answers. Until Natasha shrugged.

"It makes him friendly." She said with no hint of remorse.

Just as Tony opened his mouth to for a counter remark, a noise filled the ballroom. A rush of people flooded in through the now open doors, all cleared at the front with golden invitations. The Avengers scrambled into a semblance of order, straightening and making last adjustments to their clothes or masks. This needed to be perfect.

Awed gaggles of people made their way to stand in front of the stage. Steve could see why they opened up three floors, all the people barely fit in the ballroom alone.

"Welcome, one and all!" Tony said, his voice carried through the hall on hidden speakers. "Tonight promises to be full of hidden wonders! So, enjoy, and let us honor the new and improved Avenger's Tower!"

Tony threw the dispersing crowd a wink and ushered them off stage. The string quartet began to play, their music carrying through the speakers and to all the floors above. Steve thought he much prefered the subtle tones of piano keys rather than the swooping sounds of the quartet's background music.

The party was in full swing, and Steve found himself following the move of the crowd up to the second floor. The room, again was full of silvers, blacks, and golds. Waiters toed between chatting parties, soundlessly offering drinks and appetizers. Steve took a glass of red wine to calm himself, and to have something to do with his hands. He drifted around, engaging as much as he could.

He had taken Harry's advice to heart, and imagined himself back in the warm environment at the Marauders Hideaway. His mind playing the player piano's tinkling keys like a record. So much kinder than this embellished room with it's dozens of nameless, masked people. Steve told himself to endure it. After all, it was only one night.

He threw out compliments on the dresses and masks he liked, and never spent too much time with one group. It all seemed to be going smoothly as the bow across the violin strings. People seemed to be genuinely enjoying themselves and paid their own gratitude to Steve and the other Avengers as their hosts.

"Mr. Rogers." He knew the voice, he'd replayed it in his head many times. The mind-record scratched and cut off, leaving him grasping for something to calm himself.

"Mr. Porter." Steve greeted, his body suddenly stiff. "How is your evening?"

"As well as these publicity stunts can go...and you?" His voice was slick and foul.

"I am enjoying myself, thank you." His voice didn't back up the words. It was twice as cold as the press conference, now that that article was fresh in his mind. Steve struggled to pull his friendly mask back up under his blue one.

_Endure._

_Impress._

The mantra played out in his head. He thought of Harry and his table-shaking laugh. This wasn't the man who defamed his dead friend, this was Harry, his very real and alive friend. All he had to do was keep up the illusion and make Harry laugh again. After all, it was what he wanted to do.

"Though, I wouldn't recommend the brown delicacies."

"Oh?" Porter said, leaning in to hear more.

"My friend Thor brought the recipe from Asgard. I haven't found anyone who can stomach it besides him." Steve grinned, true and full and beautiful. "But whatever makes the god happy."

Porter laughed, a high and nasally sound. Steve went along with him and his illusion kept up.

Then, everything shattered.

The lights above them broke apart. Screams went out over the crowd as the room was plunged in darkness. Steve pushed his way to the stairs in the dim light of phone screens that were hurriedly taken out. He found Tony by the stage, whispering furiously into the dark.

"Jarvis! Come in, damnit!"

"What's going on?" Steve hissed.

"I don't know!"

Suddenly a high pitched screech came from the stage behind them. Phones, and Tony's watch were raised. Floating above the stage, alone in the blue glow, was the violin, bow slinging rapidly over it's strings in an uncoordinated dance. No hands held it up as it bounced and swayed. The sounds rang through the ballroom as people joined the music with their screams and the clapping of shoes as they ran for the shut doors. Banging of fists on the exits joined the symphony. In a single moment, when the music reached its fastest, and the both the bow and strings broke, the lights flashed on, completely repaired.

Steve looked to the stage. A black cloaked figure stood there, the hood covering it's face in shadows. It raised the broken instrument above it's head, took a single bow, and vanished. The screams continued.

"Sir." Jarvis' robotic voice came from Tony's earpiece. "Something interfered with my security, like nothing we've encountered before."

Steve missed the rest of the conversation. He was too caught in the image of the mirrors in the room. Every single one was cracked the same way, straight down the middle. In bright red ink, a message was written on all of them.

A _PHANTOM IS AMONG YOU._


	5. Misunderstood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one's quite long, and a lot happens. Any mistakes are my own, sorry about them, I'm too shy to get a beta. I love when people point them out so I can fix them! Thank you for your kind words! You keep me writing happily. Enjoy! :)

"HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN?" Nick Fury commanded the room.

His fist slammed down on the glass table. Which, if it was any thinner, would have a number of cracks from the force of the blow. The air was filled with live wires of tension, any move could set off one of the number of bombs sitting in their high-back chairs.

"I TOLD YOU!" Tony Stark was the first to blow.

"You told me you didn't have any cracks in security." Fury stated, deadpan and still awaiting answers.

"There weren't! My security is the best in the world!"

"Well obviously, seeing as the paper is splashed with pictures of New York's latest supervillain, YOU WERE WRONG!"

Fury stared Tony down, and Steve knew there was no way the billionaire would back off. Best to steer the conversation in another direction. He nudged Bruce's shoe under the table with his own and sent the scientist a 'stop them' look.

"The readings - " Bruce cleared his throat. Yes! Steve knew he could count on him to bring out the scientific evidence. Once he gained the attention of the room, he continue speaking at a higher volume. "The readings indicate a power like none we've seen before. It seems similar to gamma radiation in that it's powerful, but volatile. If you look here-"

He took the remote on the table and fired up the tv, displaying several charts that Steve had no hope of deciphering. Tony took the lead again, pointing to one particular chart in the far corner.

"It also has a nullifying effect on technology and electrical objects, which explains why my security was breached. In one move, both my power and the numerous backup generators were knocked out. Not to mention the breaks in those mirrors from Mongolia."

Steve raised an eyebrow at him. Because really? Mirrors from Mongolia? Thor, who had been shifting in his seat, obviously not engaged in the tech talk, spoke from the back of the room at SHIELD's PR building.

"But what does he want? He did not make any demands like Loki."

"I'm surprised you can remember that, my inebriated friend." Clint teased.

Ignoring him, Natasha answered the question.

"Attention." She said. "It's obvious. He showed up in front of a room full of reporters and celebrities, caused a scene, slapped his little moniker on the walls and disappeared. That's more than enough to cause a stir."

Murmurs of agreement went up around the table. Steve frowned as he thought back to last night's crazy end. Was that really all that Phantom wanted? It seemed like there was more to it. At least Steve thought so. Something about the way the figure had performed on the stolen instrument made eerie chills run through the soldier, but he couldn't bring up his suspicions with no evidence.

" _Phantom_ already has a crazy cult following online." Tony said, tapping his phone for emphasis. "Now all we need is to know what he's planning to do next, if anything."

"We can't predict him." Steve concluded.

They knew next to nothing about this mysterious entity. Powers that seemed just as vast and dangerous as Loki, but with a goal that could take him any which way, Phantom lived up to his namesake. A ghost in the wind. It was as Steve said, the target was more unpredictable than even their last.

The meeting went on for another half-hour, but no other conclusions were reached.

* * *

The Hideaway was unusually quiet for a Sunday, no patrons sat inside nursing hot beverages to avoid the coming cold. The piano was uncharacteristically silent. Steve shouldered the door open, only getting to enjoy the warm rush for a moment before a hand was clamping on his arm. He looked down to lock eyes with a frantic Miranda. A meow came from the back of the shop and he saw Circe staring at them from her hiding place behind her cat bed.

"Oh, thank god you're here." Miranda swore, biting the bottom of her lip where a silver stud was poking out.

"What? What's wrong?" Steve asked, his worry immediately turning to find Harry, who he couldn't see anywhere.

"Harry's gone insane! There were reporters here earlier and-"

A door slammed in the back of the shop. A very angry looking Harry, had appeared though it, his hair sticking up in all directions and his eyes almost glowing in rage.

"Harry?" Steve called, worry coating his tone, and Miranda winced and let go of his arm.

"I'm fine." Harry yelled, when he was so clearly not.

The small shop owner began to pace back and forth in front of the bookshelves. Steve walked over to him, putting his body in Harry's path. Surprisingly, the other man didn't notice until he bumped straight into Steve. Gripping Harry's sweater clad shoulders, Steve pushed him away from his chest and searched those green eyes. Instead of the usual lack of emotion, he saw an all consuming rage. It would have scared him before, but this was _Harry_ , and he wasn't dangerous. He was Steve's friend.

"Tell me what's wrong." Steve said, in what he hoped was a calming voice.

"They're vultures, every single one of them." Harry spat out, eyes darting toward the front window. Steve didn't see anyone out there now, but he took in what Miranda said earlier.

"The reporters?" Harry didn't answer, so Steve continued on. "I don't care for them myself, but they're just doing their job."

"Have you seen what their writing now?" Harry turned back to him, eyes hard and swirling with fury. "They asked me...they asked me if I knew you had something to do with the attack. They think you did it! You and the other Avengers!"

Steve stumbled back a step, dropping his hands to his side. The reality of the words was harsh, and he did, in fact, know of it. They'd discussed it in the meeting. Some media outlets were running with the idea that SHIELD organized Phantom's attack to let the Avengers be the heroes again.

But now he wasn't focused on that. He was focused on the fact that Harry was this angry on his behalf. He looked into those eyes and had the sudden urge to lean down and kiss the scowl off Harry's face. Wow, not the time for those thoughts. Where had that come from? Best put that away for now.

The whole thing with the reporters wasn't Harry's problem, but he was involved because of Steve, and the guilt came up from it's hiding space in his heart.

"What happened with the reporters?" He asked.

"I scared them off." Harry scoffed, shrugging his shoulders. Steve could hardly imagine this man scaring anyone before today. But now, well, he had a lot to think about.

"You didn't have to do that…"

"What do you mean?! Of course I had to!" Harry was back to yelling. "Damned if I let them get at you. You're my friend, Steve. My. Best. Friend."

He emphasised the words by stabbing at Steve's chest with a finger. The words brought back the warmth, but it wasn't enough to chase the guilt and doubt away. He griped Harry's pointing hand in his own to make sure he was listening to Steve's next words.

"They're not the problem." Steve said.

Harry's eyes widened and he struggled out of the super soldier's grip. Steve didn't want to let go, but he did. When Harry stepped back, his face fell into despair. Shaking his head, Harry made his face blank once more. Steve moved to correct his mistake, surely Harry didn't think he meant _Harry_ was the problem.

"Maybe you're the problem." Harry hissed venomously, his anger as strong as before.

_Exactly._ So Harry did get it...and he agreed. Some part of Steve broke a little at that. He backed up, hands in the air to show he meant no harm, making his way out of the Hideaway for the probable last time. A grey blur twined around his legs as Circe silently looked up at him with expectant blue eyes.

"I'm sorry." He didn't know which one he was saying it to as he dashed out of the store. He didn't look back and see Harry's tears, but the last words followed him and left holes in his chest.

* * *

"Steve! Suit up, it's our guy!" Clint called into his room, where Steve had been sulking for the past day.

He jumped into action, thoughts of his own problems drifting away. Captain America was here, and he had people to save. In the Helicopter on the way to their site, Natasha briefed him and the others over their earpieces.

"Target: Phantom is attempting to lead a parade across Park Avenue." She said.

"Say that again, Tash?" Tony call from his place flying beside them in the Iron Man suit.

"He's leading a parade of unidentified figures." She repeated, not sounding like she believed what she was saying. "Neutralize Target and take him alive."

"I'll get him!" Tony said. "No one crashes my party and gets away with it."

"Remember to get my readings!" Bruce chimed in, he was back at the tower watching over the many charts hooked up to the measuring instruments attached to each of their suits. Their hope was to figure out the guy's power and how to stop it.

Dropping down from the helicopter, Steve hit the ground running, only to stop and stare. People were screaming as they abandoned their cars and ran from the host of shadowy figures approaching from down the street. The human-like bodies were covered in some sort of black smoke, soldiering forward slowly like a zombie movie, and carrying signs with the red words splashed across them: "Phantom", and a one with the Avenger's logo under a red x. There must have been hundreds of them.

Steve rushed back into action, running along side Natasha to the edge of the crowd. When he moved to knock one of the figures down, he was shocked to see his hand fall straight through it like smoke.

"They're illusions!" Steve called to his team. "Barton, Stark, any sight on our target?"

"Negative." Clint said into the earpiece from his position on the rooftops. "Just a sea of black smoke."

"Same here." Tony informed them as he zoomed overhead, searching the shadowy figures for a solid one.

Steve pushed through the smog with Natasha and Thor, the later swinging his hammer like a machete to dissipate the foggy figures. They just reformed after he passed through though. Natasha branched off to help civilians who were trying to blindly escape the smoke and Thor joined her, guiding the path with Mjölnir. Steve pushed forward, trying to reach an unseen foe. He lost sight of the others, but kept going, the mission clear in his mind.

"You're welcome." A scratchy voice spoke through the fog. Steve turned and threw his shield, only to have it bounce back on a force field. He caught it with one hand and shifted to the balls of his feet, ready to spring out of the way of an attack. Emerging from the fog, a cloaked figure raised its hands in the universal sign of surrender. Steve didn't think it was that easy. When he moved forward, he found the force field again, it lit up green at his touch.

"Why are you doing this?" Steve asked the figure, planning to keep it talking until he could find away around the block. They circled each other, the figure lazily strolling as if he didn't plan to attack at all.

"Every hero needs a villain." Phantom said. "Every villain was once a hero... in their own story."

"Then you understand you can stop this! There's no need to create these illusions."

Phantom closed in, closer and closer. Steve braced himself for a punch or magical attack. What came was neither, it was but a whisper in the smoke filled scenery.

"Don't you see? I'm helping you." The voice shook, it sounded pleading.

"Steve! What's your status?!" Tony called into the intercom, and the moment was broken. Phantom disappeared into the smoke figures surrounding them. Only then did Steve realized he hadn't informed his team of his findings, to entranced by Phantom before him. The intercom had been silent, and he could only think that Phantom had affected it, just as he had the lights and electricity at the party. That conversation felt private - intimate - because of it. Something for him alone to hear. The words rattled around in his brain as he gave chase, guessing that he wouldn't find Phantom again today.

"Target spotted, I lost him." He said, as the smoke was clearing. Minutes later it was like nothing had ever happened. The Avengers and and dozen of others were left blinking up into the clear day. Many would go home and convince themselves it wasn't real, but not Captain America. No, Steve knew what he had seen was no mere illusion and that Phantom truly believed what he said. Now the only task was to figure out why.

* * *

"Avengers protect the public from another attack. Phantom on the rise?"

The headlines read that morning. They didn't make Steve feel any better. He still hadn't briefed the team on his encounter with Phantom, he didn't know how to put it in a way someone would understand. They wouldn't be able to hear the desperation in that plea about helping them. Really, it wasn't a cry for attention they were looking at; it was a cry for help. Somehow, someone had convinced this person that there was no other way, and Steve didn't know how to go about rectifying that.

He knew he shouldn't be empathizing with a target, but it was hard not to with the state of his mind. Harry...had he really brought only bad things to him? The media had hounded him and that was Steve's fault...he knew how vicious reporters could be. He always thought he was doing good, but after the news scandal, the incident with Harry, and everything in between he couldn't be so sure. How was it that one man could put so many doubts in his mind?

The thoughts from that day came back and hit him like a slap to the face. He liked Harry. Meaning, really liked him. He wanted to kiss the guy for Christ's sake! And that rejection had brought back all the times when he was a young man. When he was weak of body, and no girl would even look at him, let alone with affection and smiles like Harry did. It brought back the hurt. Made him doubt the man he was. He knew the world was more accepting of loving whoever you wanted now, but Harry wasn't accepting of _him_. He thought maybe it should be easier to get over, but heartbreak never was.

"Mr. Rogers." Jarvis spoke to him while he was deep in thought at breakfast.

"Yes?"

"A young man is here to see you. His name is Harry, he says you know him."

Steve stood abruptly, almost knocking over his glass of orange juice. The others gave him curious looks as he rushed to the elevator. He slammed a finger on the first floor button, and kept pressing it until the door closed and he was on his way down.

Why was Harry here? Was it to berating him for ruining his life? Or maybe to laugh in his face? Steve didn't know, he didn't care. He just wanted to see the man, see the smile, even if it was the last time. He really was smitten.

Standing outside the door to the tower, dressed in a coat befitting of the November chill, Harry was peering through the glass windows. Steve swung the large doors open and practically leaped out of them.

"I'm sorry!" Were the first words Harry said. Not what Steve was expecting. "I didn't mean what I said, I'm sorry."

Harry's chin was tucked into his chest, his strange eyes downcast. Steve didn't say anything, still trying to process the apology. Harry must have taken his silence as rejection, because he looked up and clenched his gloved hands at his sides. When he spoke again, it was with determination.

"I'm sorry I complained about the reporters and made problems for you. I'm sorry. I truly am."

Steve didn't respond with words. He just moved forward and pulled Harry into a tight embrace. He couldn't get enough of the warmth, especially in his thin t-shirt. But more because it was Harry, and things were going to be okay again.

"How could you ever think you were the problem? You're my best friend." Steve repeated Harry's words to him on that day, still hugging him tight.

"But what you said-" Harry was interrupted by a small laugh from Steve. Steve pulled back to see Harry's face, which was scrunched in confusion.

"I was talking about myself."

Harry lit up with recognition, and then his eyebrows drew down as he glared at Steve. He lightly hit Steve's muscled arm.

"You're not the problem either!" He exclaimed, showing anger on Steve's behalf yet again. Steve just grinned, he couldn't hold back the smile.

"Okay."

"Up for another walk?" Harry asked shyly, glancing up at him.

"That'd be nice." Steve said, yet again forgetting his jacket as they strolled amongst the morning commuters.

And it was nice. For now.


	6. Returned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit too late for Christmas fluff, but I combined it with New Years fluff so ha! Mostly a filer-ish chapter, with more relationship build then plot. I hope you like it. Thank you all for the lovely words you leave.

Christmas was an unbelievably bright time of year. Seeing how modern technology intensified all the lights and decorations around New York City was overwhelming. Everywhere he looked it was lit up with blinking colored lights and advertisements. Santa and presents and diamonds. Shiny, bold, new, great gift! Left and right and above. It renewed that sense that Steve was stepping into a new world, alien and weird, where he was an outsider.

Thankfully, Christmas at the tower was a quiet affair. After the disaster on Halloween, Tony was focusing all his energy on improving security, using the limited readings they had on Phantom's power from the parade. Everyone was on edge, and it dimmed the spirit of the holidays he remembered.

The media was up in arms, constantly repeating how we all had to stick together in these dark times. Steve didn't think things were particularly bad, nothing like what they could be, he would know. But any trouble was a sign of the end of the world in the modern era. He supposed no one knew how easy they had it, compared to how it was all those years ago. He hated how much he sounded like an old man, even though he technically was.

Christmas passed by, as it all would. Steve exchanged presents with the other Avengers and received many gadgets he had no idea how to use. He was pretty sure Tony did that on purpose, just to see his face. Steve had his revenge though, when the genius had to answer all his millions of questions Steve came up with just to bother him. He did give gifts to all of them, but nothing too fancy like all the technology.

He even got a gift for Harry, a simple blue cat collar for Circe and a box of authentic earl grey tea. He had to ask the salesgirl to point him in the direction of the English teas, and he did a good job going by the smile Harry gave him. Harry also gave him a jacket, "Since you never wear one.", which had him laughing and giving a hug to the smaller man.

* * *

The real interesting event in the Tower came after he came back from one of his various meetings with Harry. Steve stepped into the living room wearing his new jacket, a soft smile on his face. Tony looked up from where he and the rest were watching a movie, popcorn included.

"How's your boyfriend Steve?"

"He's good." Steve answered, taking the jacket of to hang it up and running a hand over it fondly.

Tony seemed totally surprised by the answer. For that matter, so did Steve.

"Wait- He's not- We're not-" He tried to backpedal.

Tony scrambled to grab the remote and pause the action movie. He almost fell over the back of the couch as he propped himself up to look at Steve. The others turned to look at him and Natasha's single raised eyebrow broke his concentration on not blushing. Pink blush dusted his cheeks as he tried to think of words that would get him out of this situation. Seeing their Captain so flustered was not a way to teambuild!

"Do we need to have The Talk?" Tony asked, face and voice completely serious.

"What? No!" Steve protested, his usual irritation at Tony's antics masking the embarassment for a moment.

"Who knew he had it in him?" Clint said to Natasha, she just nodded, still giving Steve a Look.

"Congratulations Steve!" Thor boomed. "We plan your wedding ceremonies for the full moon!"

"No. No!" Steve growled, pointing at both of them. "Harry and I are just friends."

He didn't mention the way his heart raced when Harry leaned in, or the frightening urge to kiss him at various intervals during their meetings. No one needed to know that. Except, the way his other friends were looking at him told him they could read it all plainly on his face. Damn his stupid face again!

"But you don't want to be…?" Bruce queried. Bruce! Steve at least thought the scientist would have his back. Was there no one he could turn to in his time of need?

"Yes...no...that's besides the point." Steve groaned, rubbing his hands over his face.

Tony let out a strangled little gasp and fell back onto the couch. Clint started snickering. Bruce just gave a concerned frown. Steve stood there, completely mortified. Natasha stood, interrupting Thor's chattering about weddings. She pointed a single, well manicure nail at the door and spoke.

"Out."

"But-" Tony started, no doubt about to make some remark that would have Steve fuming.

"Don't make me say it again." Natasha warned, voice low. The others ran to get away from Black Widow at her finest, scary as all hell.

"Thank you." Steve said once the last of Thor's cape vanished behind a closed door.

Natasha just raised that eyebrow at him again, face clearly questioning. Steve shook his head, he couldn't take anymore of this today. It was bad enough _Tony_ had to be there, he was sure to get teased for weeks to come. But he could not handle Natasha's probing added to that.

"Don't." He said, trying to put the same warning in his tone.

"I didn't say anything." Natasha surmised, knowing that she didn't have to. "Just...be careful."

With her last wisdom exposed, she exited the room, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts. Of course, his thoughts went to Harry, who was beginning to take up more of them than he'd like to admit. It was true that he wanted something more with Harry. And with the modern way of thinking, he didn't have to worry too much about getting beat up for liking another man. Not that someone could pummel him easily anymore. Things were nowhere near as bad as they used to be, though they still weren't anywhere close to perfect. The biggest problem though: Did Harry want him back?

* * *

They stood squished between a young couple and a group of loud laughing women. Steve shifted in discomfort under his cap and sunglasses. Leaning more towards Harry's side, he reminded himself why he was standing here in Times Square. It was all for Harry, who said they had to come and see the staple of New Year's in New York, the famous ball drop. Steve had been before, but never had there been so many people, at least not how he remembered it.

Harry tipped back and forth beside him, practically humming in excitement. That was why he put up with the crowd, for Harry. He'd do just about anything for Harry. The truth in that broth frightened and warmed him.

Steve's own nerves were on high alert. Tony had informed him before his "date" that the New Years would be a perfect time for Phantom to attack. He had to admit the possibility, and tried not to think of what could happen to Harry in such an experience. He could be trampled...or worse. Phantom hadn't directly attacked to cause harm yet, a piece Steve had added to his puzzle, but that didn't mean he couldn't escalate now.

The large clock displayed the 15 second mark and Harry reached up to grip his hand. Steve welcomed the warmth. At ten, the vast mob began to count down, voices thunderous when mingled together. Neither Harry, nor Steve joined them, preferring to stand there watching the tension with wide eyes.

3…

Harry tugged at his hand, grabbing his attention. He look down at his friend in confusion, wasn't the main event about to start?

2…

Harry looked up at him, an almost nervous looking grin in place. Steve opened his mouth to ask what was wrong.

1…

Harry tugged him down.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Steve didn't hear the deafening cry. Or the boom clap of the fireworks. He was too focused on Harry, Harry, Harry. Harry's soft lips on his. Harry's hand gripping the back of his head, his other still entwined with Steve's own. Harry's taste, a mix of peppermint chapstick, herbal tea, and honey. Harry's smell, coffee and spice. Harry's warmth surrounding him. Steve was both complete and completely lost at the same time.

There were still cheers when the kiss ended. Steve's eyes fluttered open from behind his glasses to meet Harry's green ones. Bright and searching.

Steve released Harry's hand, seeing the brief fall of his friend's expression. Brief, because it was only a moment before he tangled his hands in Harry's hair and pulled him into another searing kiss. He swiped a tongue over Harry's bottom lip, surprised at his own boldness.

He didn't hear the flash of cameras. He didn't see the flickering of all the lights in the square, but he did hear the screams afterwards. He pulled away from Harry, missing the pressure, but also completely alert for any danger. He saw the end of the lights, billboards, and electronics coming back to life. Harry tugged his hand, and he had to strain to hear the yell over the panicking crowd.

"WE SHOULD GO."

Steve nodded, gripping Harry's hand as tight as he dared as to not crush it. He pushed their way through the crowd, he had to get Harry away. If this was Phantom, he didn't want Harry anywhere near here when the inevitable fight went down. The crowd went on and on for what seemed to be miles, certainly it was many city blocks before they were able to break away and breathe. They stayed silent as they walked a couple more blocks before Steve stopped and turned to face Harry.

"Stay here," Steve said. "I have to-"

"I know." Harry said, squeezing his hand once. "Stay safe. Come back to me."

With one last return squeeze, Steve conveyed that he would. Then, he was reluctantly running in the opposite direction. He made it to the crowd and quickly judged the situation. No one was running or screaming. Well, more accurately, no one was screaming in fear. The crowd was plenty loud as it celebrated the coming of the New Year. Even as he pushed through towards the front, the merriment didn't stop. Breathing a deep sigh of relief, Steve turned and went to the edge of the slowly dispersing crowd. Then he was running back.

Back to Harry.

**Author's Note:**

> like it? let me know. thanks for reading.


End file.
